Gemotions

The invitation felt heavy in Elara's hand, like a brick. "Retirement party for Margaret and David," it read, in crisp, cheerful lettering. She’d been staring at it for an hour, the words blurring, the glossy card reflecting the dull light of her apartment. Dust motes danced in the air, a silent testament to her lack of energy.

She sighed, a sound that seemed to pull the air from her lungs. Giving a speech? To acknowledge their years of hard work, their triumphs? The thought churned in her stomach, a bitter brew. She was barely managing to get out of bed in the mornings.

Later, at the party, she stood in the corner, nursing a lukewarm drink. The room buzzed with laughter, the music felt too loud. When her name was called, her throat clenched. She walked to the podium feeling like a lead weight had taken up residence in her chest.